


maybe i matter (because i knew you)

by NoGood_InGoodbye



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon compliant until the semis confrontation, Eventual Romance, F/F, Gay!Jesse, Like so so tiny you'd miss it if you blink, Mostly Canon Compliant, Smallest mention of Staubrey, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Steca!Brotp, because he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGood_InGoodbye/pseuds/NoGood_InGoodbye
Summary: Chloe Beale would never lie to her—maybe the redhead would throw a little white lie to her dad to skip 30-minute interrogations about her grades and love life or purposely forget to tell Aubrey that she had left their setlist in her room so they could vocalize and warmup using songs that were actually made in that century, but not to Beca. Never to her.Or: Beca realizes it first, Chloe deserves all the hugs, and it's another soulmate au (fite me).





	maybe i matter (because i knew you)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I still don't own PP. Unbetaed-ish (I read over it once (which turned it into the behemoth it is now), does that count?)

Chloe didn't know what to think of her mark. The small black text tattooed on the space just above her heart wasn't exactly  _awe_ inspiring.

It could have been teasing—a future joke between friends. It could have been insulting—anger mixed with frustration miring in the words. It could have been—and this is everything she hoped it would be—loving. Whispered words tenderly spoken in the night.

Slender tan fingers traced over the words, blindingly blue eyes reading the black scrawl through her full length mirror. _Just like you_.

Chloe Beale didn't know what to think of her mark, but after Jacob Wiley had followed her down the block while sneering and jeering at her, repeating the words over and over, she knew she didn't want the world to know about it anymore.

It took a few years and lots of practice and blending and cosmetic stores but eventually, she'd learned to keep  _Just like you_ beneath lots of concealer and t-shirts and artfully styled sweaters.

There was a time, though—after she had mastered covering her mark—that she had started falling for every kind of  _Just like you_ ’s she heard. 

("It's just like you to be an hour late to your own party."

"They look just like you!"

"But I'm not like you! I can  _never_ be _just like you_!")

She'd stopped listening to  _Just like you'_ s after Hannah Rivers and the two tons of chocolate chip cookies. She'd stopped listening to  _Just like you'_ s after she realized that maybe the  _you_ wasn't even _about_ her. Maybe it was a general kind of  _you_. The kind you overhear a friend chuckling to someone else. A teasing kind of _you_. Or a placating kind of  _you_. A  _you_ that didn't involve  _her_.

Chloe Beale didn't know what to think of her mark, and by the time she got into Barden, her soulmate and her mark were the  _last_ things on her mind.

 

* * *

 

Beca didn't really believe her mark. Honestly, who the fuck was that  _nice_?

Every morning, steely blue eyes would stare at her mirror, skinny pale fingers brushing against the three black sentences that wrapped around her left hip.

_This is amazing! You're amazing! Why didn't you tell me you could mix?_

Beca wasn't amazing. Not by a long shot, but whoever her soulmate was sure seemed to think so. 

It made the brunette queasy. Every time she'd read the words, her stomach would knot and her breathing would jolt to a stop. Her words filled her with an  _awful_ mix of dread and hope.

Her soulmate was surely someone kind and, well,  _amazing_. She didn't know if she deserved someone like that. Or, she  _believed_ she didn't deserve someone like that. Not after all the shit she's pulled and the ass she's become.

But the words also brought about a warmth that made her lips twitch and eyes brighten. Whoever her soulmate was, they  _definitely_ liked music. _Her_ music. 

Every time she'd feel down at having another mix rejected or after she'd answer another frustrating phonecall from her dad, she'd look at the words and remember that someone, somewhere, loved her music. Or, will love her music. That was enough to keep her going and fighting.

 

* * *

 

Chloe loved Aubrey, truly, but sometimes her best friend was more frustrating than her Russian Literature professor. She understood that the girl was stressed—leading the almost non-existent Bellas, preparing for her senior year, job-hunting,  _everything,_  but if she really wanted to succeed, she needed to know that they couldn't live in their little Bella Box anymore. 

"Oh, what about her?"

“I don’t know,” Aubrey grimaced, turning back to her with a wrinkled nose. “She looks a little too _alternative_ , for us.”

The redhead rolled her eyes in reply, turning to catch the brunette with a grin on her lips and a flier in hand. “Hi, any interest in joining our acapella group?

The brunette took the flier reluctantly, eyes flitting over the paper before looking back up with a teasing smirk. “Oh, right, this is, like, a _thing_ now.”

Chloe chuckled softly, noting the girl’s sarcasm but trying to use her teasing interest to her advantage. “Oh, totes. We sing covers of songs but we do it without _any_ instruments. It’s all from our _mouths_.”

“Yikes.”

The redhead grinned at the girl’s discomfort. Her nose wrinkled and her lips twisted just slightly as she tried to hide a cringe—it was kind of cute. “There’s four groups on campus. The Bellas, that’s us, we’re the tits. The BU Harmonics, they a _lot_ of Madonna. The High Notes, they’re not particularly, motivated. And then there’s…”

Chloe paused, turning back to the brunette with a small grimace, her smile returning once she noted the slight interest pick up on the brunette’s face. “So, are you interested?”

The brunette paused before shrugging, “Sorry, it’s just, it’s pretty lame.”

Chloe threw a hand in front of her co-captain as the blonde looked ready to start a fight, words scathing and angry and hurt. “What Aubrey means to say is that we are a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year.” She could see both women start to calm and she let her arm fall back to her side. “Help us turn our dreams into a reality?”

She could see a flash of— _something_ —in those cold blue eyes before the brunette offered a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t even sing, but it was really nice to meet you guys.”

Though the brunette walked away, Chloe felt a strange connection tying her to the girl and she felt certain she would see her again.

(Chloe may have hated her soulmark, but that didn’t mean she stopped believing in fate.)

 

* * *

 

Beca had been so busy mixing, hoping to impress her new station manager, that she’d forgotten to take a proper shower that week. Stacie had entered their room that morning, took one look at her and wrinkled her nose. “Fuck, Becs, you _reek_.”

“You’re standing at the door!”

“So you _know_ you smell worse than shit.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“If I were, I’d probably get laid more.”

“Is that even _possible_?”

“Fuck you, Mitchell. Go take a shower.”

“Only if you’ll join me, Conrad.”

“Worst pick-up line _ever_. You didn’t learn that from me.”

So, there Beca was, walking to the freshman showers after being kicked out by her best friend. Her really shitty ass best friend.

Her mind still stuck on her latest mix, she started to softly sing the David Guetta song she was working on, entering the shower room as she nodded to the beat. Placing her shower things in their respective places, she stripped off her robe and started the shower, getting to the chorus of the song. “Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away—”

“You _can_ sing!”

“Dude!” The brunette twisted, one hand immediately covering her mark as the other pulled the curtain back into place. Her thoughts vaguely recalled the shower invader’s face, burning red hair and ocean blue eyes cementing themselves in her memory—for a completely _different_ reason now, too.

The redhead quickly pulled the curtain back, leaning in close to turn off the shower. “How high does your belt go?”

Beca tried to find _anything_ to cover herself. “My _what_? Oh my god!”

“You _have_ to audition for the Bellas.”

Was this girl _mad_? What the fuck? “I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying until you cover your junk.”

The brunette’s request was bulldozed over as the redhead continued. “Just—consider it. One time we sang backup for Prince! His butt is so tiny that I can hold it with, like, one hand.”

No matter what the little DJ did, the redhead seemed determined to get her to do whatever the hell it is she was asking. Beca didn’t quite know what the redhead was saying, she was much too distracted with _things_.

“Seriously?! I am nude.” She turned to face the corner, still covering the mark on her hip—the words were always personal to her and she didn’t care if a fucking peeper wanted to stare, she was _not_ showing her mark to _anyone_ (anymore, that is. Stacie’s already seen the stupid thing and had laughed for a good six minutes straight just thinking about the fact that “moody-as-fuck Beca” was someday going to be soulmates with an obvious _optimist_ ).

Her desperate pleas were ignored. “You were singing Titanium, right?”

Beca couldn’t stop the slight quirk of her lips at the title of the song. She didn’t know many people who knew the French DJ—even her best friend was oblivious until she’d forced her to listen to _Fuck Me I’m Famous_. “You know David Guetta?”

The girl looked slightly offended. “Have I been living under a rock? Yeah. That song is my jam.”

She was impressed. That is, until—“My _lady_ jam.”

Ew. “O-kay.”

“It is. That song really builds.’

“Gross.”

“Can you sing it for me?”

 _Hell no_. “Dude, no! Get out!”

“Not for _that_ reason. I’m not leaving here until you sing. So.”

She prayed to every deity that the redhead wasn’t serious, but after an exaggerated little sigh, she realized she was. Turning to face her imminent doom, she used one arm to cover her privates while the other held firmly over her mark. “I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose…”

The moment the redhead had joined in, harmonizing with her seamlessly, the mix the brunette had been working on suddenly started to click. The harmony mixed perfectly with the melody in her head, and if she slowed the beat down on the track, she’d have the perfect remix. Who knew getting shower-invaded wouldn’t be so bad?

The song faded as steel blue eyes melted into deep blue, Beca’s whole being buzzed and felt overwhelmingly warm from that music-high. Until she remembered that they were both nude. Her eyes quickly scanned over the redhead, noting the strangely familiar black scrawl right on the girl’s heart before her gaze returned to ocean blue.

“Oh, yeah, I’m pretty confident about—all this,” the girl grinned—no, _beamed_.

Her eyes trailed over the redhead again, spending a second longer on the spot above her breast before finding deep blue. She couldn’t help but say, “You should be.”

The brightness in the redhead’s smile somehow tripled and the brunette had to look away in fear of going blind. Thankfully, after the small audience that seemed to have crowded Beca’s stall, she was left in peace to wonder what could ever compare to deep blue eyes. She couldn’t imagine _anything_ being just like the redhead.

 

* * *

 

Only ten minutes into hood night and Chloe was drunk (maybe Aubrey was right when she’d warned the redhead against pre-gaming tonight). Warm blue eyes scanned the unfamiliar mix of fresh acapella meat before they landed on the awkward figure of one Beca Mitchell judgingly smirking at a Treble.

The senior beamed at the sight of the girl she’d recruited from the shower room, tan legs skipping their way towards the brunette determinedly. Chloe didn’t quite know what it was about the freshman that intrigued her (maybe it was her piercing, steely gaze, or the casual, half-hearted smirks. Maybe it was the tattoos peppered over pale skin or the awkward charm the brunette seemed to carry with her), but she was determined to learn more about her before she graduated.

Chloe watched the Treblemaker turn to leave and hurried to catch up to Beca (even if the freshman didn’t seem like she was going to move, anyways).

“Hi!” the redhead pulled the freshman closer with a drunken grin. “I am _so_ glad that I met you.” Steely blue eyes drew her in as the senior leaned forward, grin softening to a gentle smile. “I think that we’re going to be really fast friends.”

Chloe couldn’t quite tell if the brunette was grinning back in reply or if her eyesight was getting a tad bit blurry, but when Beca pulled back in reply, the redhead immediately missed the younger girl’s warmth.

The redhead shook away her jumbled thoughts with ease, smile stretching back into a drunken grin at the freshman’s reply. “Alright, I’ma go get a drink. This ginger needs her jiggle juice.” Chloe turned, shaking out a teasing dance before giving a snappy wave. “See you later!”

She pretended the brunette’s half-hearted concern didn’t warm her heart.

 

* * *

 

Beca was glad she’d only drank a cup or two the night before, noting the way some of the other girls were dragging their feet off the floor. But even if she wasn’t hungover, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief as Aubrey finally called it a day.

Until the she-demon stopped her.

Beca waved for Stacie to go ahead, knowing that giraffe legs probably had something better to do—or some _one_. Beca walked up to the blonde dictator—all casually fake confidence and waited for the ass-chewing that was to come.

She could barely hold back her usual eyeroll at the captain’s pointed criticism, instead choosing to shoot the blonde a knowing smirk and shrug. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you have a toner for Jesse.”

A what-the-fuck for the record-stacker? “What?”

“A toner.” Aubrey’s face told her that she should know this shit. Beca really didn’t. “A musical boner. I saw it at hood night—it’s distracting.”

“Yeah, that’s not a thing,” Beca quirked a brow, frowning. “And you’re not the boss of me, so...” Even if she didn’t have anything going on with that Jesse guy, Beca hated when people thought they knew her (she was the farthest thing from interested, thank you very much).

“You took an _oath_.”

“That oath cost you two girls already _today_ —I’m pretty sure you need me more than I need you.” And damn fuck, Beca couldn’t stop her smirk from widening at having the final say. She walked away with her proud little smirk, head held high in silent triumph.

“I can see your toner through those jeans!”

Beca turned back, unimpressed. “That’s my dick.”

And if Beca noticed the small grin on a certain redhead’s lips (who didn’t seem the least bit hungover or worried or stressed, which, what the fuck, Chloe Beale? What kind of goddess _are_ you?), then that was simply coincidence (she wasn’t looking for the other senior’s reaction, of course not).

Beca was already halfway to her dorm when a warm familiar voice stopped her.

“Beca! Wait up!”

The freshman turned to find Chloe grinning brightly as the redhead jogged to catch up, stopping with a few soft puffs before turning her blinding smile towards her. “Hey! I wanted to apologize for Aubrey earlier today—you shouldn’t have been singled out like that.”

Beca couldn’t help but quirk a brow at the senior, waiting for the punchline or some hidden cameras to appear. No one ever apologized to her—whether it be for something someone else did or something they did themselves—that was why she never apologized for anything, either.

When nothing came and the redhead was still looking down at her with her big fucking blue, incredibly too sincere eyes, Beca couldn’t help but nod awkwardly in reply. “Oh, uh, ‘s fine. No big deal.”

The senior’s quick to disagree. “No, no one deserves to be singled out for something as small as their personal fashion choices—especially if it’s something as subjective as earrings.”

Beca blinked in surprise at how serious the senior seemed to be taking it before an amused, slow smirk curled her lips. “Wow, getting a little passionate there, huh, Red?”

Soft pink dusted the redhead’s tanned cheeks as Chloe chuckled in reply. “I just, I don’t want you to think that’s normal. Bree’s not always like that, swear. She’s just really stressed and everything and I’m not excusing what she did, but I don’t want you to think this is something normal as a Bella.”

“It’s fine, Beale, we’re cool.”

“Awes!” Chloe bounced and Beca fought to keep her own (real, fucking genuine) smile at bay. “So where you going, Becs?”

The brunette simply quirked a brow at the freshly given nickname but made no comment on it. “Back to my dorm, Baker Hall.”

“Oh, I’m heading to the literature building just past it! Let’s go!” And Beca was normally one to shy away from physical contact (Stacie was only an exception because she’d _forced_ it on to the brunette a million years ago and Beca couldn’t be bothered to fight back any more), but when the redhead curled soft tan fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her down the path, the brunette couldn’t bring it in herself to protest. Especially when the senior would turn to her with those damn blue eyes and grin that stupid ass smile.

 

* * *

 

It was two days after their first rehearsal that Chloe first bumped into Beca after apologizing that same rehearsal day.

“Hi!” the redhead grinned as she stopped in front of the girl, fingers wrapped cozily around the warmth of the coffee in her hands.

The brunette’s eyes snapped up from her laptop, the back of her head bumping the tree she’d been leaning on.

Chloe winced, kneeling next to the confused looking freshman to gently rub over the spot Beca had been touching. “You okay? The bump doesn’t feel that big.”

Beca grimaced, pulling away but nodding. “I’m fine, sorry. You just—startled me, ‘s all.”

Chloe nodded in reply, pulling away before settling into the spot next to the brunette. She pretended not to notice the incredulous look on the freshman’s face—silently celebrating the fact that she, at the very least, wasn’t glaring—and started bringing out her own reading material. After getting herself settled, she looked up to find skeptical eyes gazing back.

The redhead replied with a bright grin. “Yes?”

“Um, what are you doing?”

Chloe showed the girl the front cover of her geography book. “Studying maps. You?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The redhead grinned, “I know. So what are you doing?”

The brunette replied with an eye roll and soft sigh, the sight only brightening the senior’s grin before the younger girl slid her headphones off and pressed some keys on her laptop. “Now, I’m leaving.”

“Aw, Bec, don’t go.” The redhead pouted playfully, warm blue widening with the gentlest whine. “I want to hang out with you.”

The freshman looked ready to run, but at Chloe’s deepened pout, Beca gave in.

“Fine,” the brunette grumbled, settling back in her spot. “Whatever.”

Chloe grinned brightly in reply, shuffling closer to keep their knees touching as she leaned back next to the brunette and returned to her textbook. Chloe made no comment over the fact that Beca left her laptop closed, basking in the warm gaze of cold blue eyes. The redhead tried not to smile at the brunette’s undivided attention but couldn’t help the slight quirk of her lips at the freshman’s stare.

“You’re enjoying this,” the brunette scowled, stormy blues turning to the field stretched out in front of them.

Chloe simply hummed in reply, smile growing as she kept her eyes focused on her readings. Though the brunette seemed averse to her company (or anyone’s company, really, except for their other recruit, Stacie—she thought something was going on between the two until she saw Stacie stuff Beca’s head under her arm during rehearsal and make farting noises as she spun them both around), she noted the way thin knobby knees pushed on hers and memorized the slightest quirk on the freshman’s lips (she didn’t dare call it a smile in case Beca could read her thoughts and frown in defiance).

Beca made no more comment after that and the two sat under the tree in peaceful silence (weeks into their “fast friendship”, that spot became _their_ spot and Chloe had made Beca carve their initials into the trunk to cement it (Beca had grumbled and called it vandalism, but Chloe knew the brunette was secretly thrilled)).

 

* * *

 

Beca didn’t quite know how sitting under a tree together led to her _bonding_ with a certain redhead, but the freshman couldn’t quite complain.

“So are you thinking about it?” pale skinny shoulders bumped lean tan ones, resting against the senior as the younger woman returned to finishing her paper (read: staring at her blank Word document for another thirty minutes).

Beca could feel the redhead’s shrug lift her own shoulder before the senior laid her head on the freshman’s shoulder (Beca had gotten used to the physical affection much faster than she cared to admit—it must have been all the fucking fresh air affecting her brain or something). “I don’t know. The vocal rest needed for after surgery isn’t really something I can afford right now.”

“But it’s your _health_ , Chlo.” (Nicknames came quickly after the physical affection, as the brunette learned soon enough.)

“And singing is my _dream_ , Bec—no, it’s my _life_. Music is—it’s not just notes and harmonies and melodies, you know? It’s who I _am_.”

And Beca knew— _god_ did she _know_ —but even she couldn’t convince herself that music was a life worth pursuing (not with her dad hounding on her, not with her mom a million miles away, not with the crushing weight of never being good enough blindsiding everything she’s ever believed in). So the brunette slipped an arm over warm tan shoulders and let the redhead cry into her favorite flannel—her heart breaking at every muffled sob the older woman tried to bite back.

Pale slender fingers tangled gently with warm tan ones, Beca pulling the redhead closer as she mumbled into her hair. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Red.”

Beca didn’t know when it happened (probably after the seventh time Chloe made herself at home under her— _their_ —tree) or how it had come to this point (probably through Chloe’s unabashed charm and confidence. Maybe through all the damn smiles and warm hugs in between rehearsals or just before performances. Definitely through all the late-night texts and random in-between-class phone calls) but they’d become each other’s people.

(Stacie had teased her about it once—genuinely proud and happy that Beca was actually finding another friend (because, according to the giant, “ _It’s like watching your child grow into themselves_.”). Although, according to giraffe legs, they were more like girlfriends than best friends and Beca had tackled her into a murderous tickle fight that she did not actually win.)

Beca’d be the first person Chloe texted about another failed geography test. Chloe’d be the first person she’d call about a new song she’d found or an artist she’d heard of down the street. She’d be the one to fetch Chloe from her Tuesday-Thursday classes and bring her to rehearsals and then back to the off-campus condo she shared with Aubrey (Chloe was right—Aubrey was much less of a bitch outside of rehearsal, but it didn’t mean they hated each other any less). Chloe’d be the one to bring her lunch at the radio station and joke around with Jesse about how the Trebles were going down (she still wasn’t all that close with the guy and she thinks he’s hitting on her—but she doesn’t want to assume things just because he seems like he’s straight).

In the span of a little more than a few months, Beca found that she could confidently say that Chloe Beale was her (second, less important, according to Stacie) best friend.

(Except maybe Stacie was right and she wanted a little more than just that.)

 

* * *

 

Chloe felt her heart stop at the familiar words flying awkwardly out of the young brunette’s mouth. She’d never tell anyone, but No Diggity had been her summer jam way back when she thought she knew everything anyone needed to know about music. And now, hearing a barely five-foot brunette sing Blackstreet’s familiar words had the redhead floored.

She clearly did not know as much about Beca Mitchell as she thought she did.

“Beca!” Chloe could barely contain her grin, tackling the freshman into a hug as Aubrey marched ahead of the group, out of the pool.

“Urgh, Beale,” the brunette grunted in reply, patting awkwardly with one hand as the other laid trapped between them.

“That was so good! You were great!” Even in the dim lighting, Chloe could see the blush spread over the freshman’s pale features.

Beca shrugged, pulling away from the hug as cold blue eyes stayed glued to the tiled floor. “It was okay. Could use some work, like Aubrey said.”

Chloe laughed, pulling the girl in for another quick hug before linking their arms together and continuing out the pool (Chloe relished in the way the brunette leaned in—a testament to how close the pair had gotten over the few months of knowing each other). “We were _amazing_ , Becs! You were right, we were great and I’m not letting Aubrey’s mood ruin ours!”

The redhead’s grin only brightened at the slight quirk on thin pink lips, Chloe giving Beca’s arm an affectionate squeeze before completely pulling away. “Alright, I better get back before Aubrey starts a fit. Great work today, Becs! I’m so proud of you.”

Chloe couldn’t help but drop a quick peck on the freshman’s cheek, excitement and pride coursing through her veins as she pulled away and headed to her condominium.

She slept with the image of Beca Mitchell’s first ever genuine smile towards her engraved behind her eyelids.

 

* * *

 

Beca had never been much of a fighter, so she couldn’t quite say why she’d punched the old ass acapella guy. Still, being stuck in a holding cell wasn’t so bad.

“So, what are you in for?” her bulky, bearded cellmate asked half-interestedly.

“Destruction of public property. You?”

“Same, but with some vandalism.”

“Cool.” The pair sat in awkward silence as they waited for an officer to return.

“Who’s bailing you out?” the man asked, clearly uncomfortable with a little quiet.

“Dunno, hopefully my be—teammates.”

“No boyfriend?”

“I’m gay.”

“Even with the soulmate thing?”

“Still very gay.”

“Girlfriend, then?”

Beca paused, thinking of warm blue and burning red, stomach twisting and heart pounding. “Nope. You?”

“Everyone I know is broke.”

“Fun life.”

“The best.” Thankfully, Beca was saved from painfully awkward holding cell conversations as an officer entered to tell her she’d been bailed out.

Beca was much less relieved when she learned that Jesse’d called her dad.

They’d fought—she’d yelled—and maybe she felt kind of guilty for lashing out at Jesse but seeing the face her father had given her when she’d first ran from home after hearing about their divorce tore her up inside. She didn’t apologize.

She stormed out of her father’s car without a second look back, the Mitchells stewing silently as Jesse watched on, hurt and helpless.

Beca calmed down at seeing all the Bellas crowded in her room (at seeing warm blue eyes clouded with worry as the redhead seemed ready to jump off the bed and crush her in a hug).

And when Aubrey jumped at the chance to call for an emergency Bella meeting, Beca jumped at the chance to make a change. She didn’t know when she started to care, but she was damn tired of barely placing (and of seeing warm blue eyes try to hide their disappointment every time the rankings were announced).

But when had Aubrey shut down all of her or even Chloe’s attempts, she realized that maybe hope was for suckers after all.

“Let’s get started,” Aubrey declared with finality, striding out of the room and forcing the other Bellas to leave. Stacie followed them out to be a good host or some shit and Beca was too busy sulking to realize that a certain redhead had stayed behind. Warm tan fingers spread gently over her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You okay, Becs?”

Cold blue jumped to warm ocean orbs, a wry smile curling thin pink lips. “I’m fine. Least I tried, right?”

“I’m—”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry, Red, it’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Beale. You tried your best, too… _We_ tried our best, but the stick up Aubrey’s ass seems to be deeper than I thought.”

Beca could see the redhead still fighting to apologize but eventually give in with a sigh, Beca’s own shoulders relaxing when the senior decided to change topics.

“So, what is all this, exactly?” Chloe moved in and Beca could smell the soft scent of strawberry and vanilla, body freezing as she felt the redhead lean closer. It took the brunette a few more seconds to get her brain back in order, gulping down the lump in her throat as she turned her attention back to her laptop (“ _it’s just a crush, it’s just a crush, it’s just a crush_ ” her mind chanted as she tried to focus).

“Um, it’s the mixing program I use and, uh, here,” Beca pulled up her most recent mix, nerves leaving her fingers shaking as she reached for her headphones. “It’s not that great. Not one of my best, uh—”

Warm tan fingers enveloped her shaking ones, a soft smile curling full pink lips as the redhead looked down at her in understanding. “I’m sure it’ll be aca-awesome.”

Beca snorted, rolling her eyes as she let the senior slip her headphones on and take a seat on the edge of her bed, heart still beating dangerously in her chest as she finally pressed play.

Beca didn’t really go around sharing her music with people. The last new person she’d showed her mix to was Jesse—and his reaction had been a little… disappointing. Not that he didn’t seem enthusiastic! He just—it felt a lot like she was in middle school showing her dad her first ever song and he’d smiled awkwardly and said really loudly how great she was. It felt awkward. Like he was genuinely trying to be proud but didn’t really know how.

It wasn’t really Jesse’s fault—or even her dad’s (no matter how angry or upset she was at them at the moment) or Stacie’s (she just wasn’t as much of a music nerd as Beca was). Beca just understood music differently. It wasn’t just her passion—it was her lifeline. Music was _her_.

Which was what made the whole situation so nerve-wracking. If Jesse, the guy who wanted to score movies after college, and Stacie, the woman who was practically her sister-mix-of-rude-ass-mother in everything but blood, couldn’t really understand her music—then how could she believe that Chloe would?

Yet, as the two-minute marker passed and Beca watched full pink lips curl into a slow, bright smile, she couldn’t help but breathe easier.

Chloe Beale would never lie to her—maybe the redhead would throw a little white lie to her dad to skip 30-minute interrogations about her grades and love life or purposely forget to tell Aubrey that she had left their setlist in her room so they could vocalize and warmup using songs that were actually made in that century, but not to Beca. Never to her.

Not after three and a half hour phonecalls about nothing and everything at the wee hours of the morning. Not after multiple morning coffee bribes to get Beca to join the redhead for breakfast after her morning jogs. Not after sharing each other’s childhood stories under their tree for weeks in a row—acapella the furthest thing from their minds.

Beca didn’t know _how_ she knew—but Chloe Beale could never disappoint her. And maybe Beca would be hurt by some of the redhead’s honesty, but at least she knew the senior was nothing but sincere with her—and how could the brunette be disappointed when Chloe’s held nothing back from her?

The redhead was beaming now, bouncing and dancing slightly in her seat as she mouthed the words passionately. Beca couldn’t stop her own smile from growing, heartbeat tripling for a whole other reason.

Beca never knew how she wanted people to react to her music—not until then. Not until she saw Chloe Beale dancing in her bed as it neared the middle of the night, full pink lips either mouthing along to the lyrics or grinning like mad, warm blue eyes trapping her in place.

Chloe laughed, voice warm and bright (Chloe Beale was one of her favorite songs).

And then Beca’s whole world stopped at the redhead’s next words.

“This is _amazing_!” Beca felt her breath catch, heart stuttering as she felt her jaw drop. “ _You're_ amazing! Why didn't you tell me you could mix?”

And Beca wished she could say it hit her like lightning—like a flood of memories and emotions crashed into her like a tsunami. As if her world was suddenly painted in bright red and blue and _life_. As if she suddenly realized what life and love actually meant sitting on her desk chair at eleven in the evening watching warm ocean eyes stare into her own. As if hearing those words made her realize she was in love with her best friend in the span of less than a year.

But Beca would be a liar if she said so.

She knew, from the moment the redhead had crashed her (then) newly dubbed “spot” on the open quad grounds that Chloe Beale would become someone special in her life.

She just didn’t quite realize it meant that she was her fucking _soulmate_.

It made sense, though.

Beca had never quite felt at home anywhere or with anyone else like she did with Chloe Beale.

So, she loved her.

 _Loves_ her.

Beca wasn’t as surprised as she thought she’d be. It just—it made sense. It made sense to her.

Chloe Beale made sense to her.

“Becs?” Beca snapped back to reality at the sound, warm blue pulling her out of her thoughts. “You okay?”

“Oh.” Beca wondered if she should say anything (the idea passed through her thoughts faster than she could blink—was there actual protocol for sharing this shit with your soulmate? Would fate fuck her over if she told her right now? Would the universe chase her down if she worked ahead of its own timeline?). “Uh, yeah, sorry.” She turned back to her laptop (decision made with a shaky sigh as cold blue fell over jumping waves), pausing the song as the senior passed her headphones back with a worried frown. “I’m fine. I just—no one’s ever been so enthusiastic about my mixes before.”

Chloe’s million watt smile returned. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t be. This is incredible, Becs.” The brunette watched Chloe turn back to her laptop, eyes twinkling under the lowlight of her desk lamp. “Do you have any more?”

 

* * *

 

Chloe felt like shit.

There was no other word for it. Chloe felt like _shit_.

They’d lost the semi-finals and, sure, that hurt like hell, but what _really_ hurt was how Aubrey had pinned her to the spot and made her choose between her two best friends as if the choice were obvious.

It wasn’t.

“I told you she wasn’t a Bella.” And Chloe could feel the judgment rolling off the blonde in waves. The redhead could feel a lump in her throat forming at the utter chaos she could feel was coming.

“Aubrey, don’t—”

“No, don’t bring Chloe into this. This is between _you_ and _me_ , Posen.”

“She’s the one who brought your sorry ass into this group!” It stung. She knew Aubrey could go a little overboard when she was angry and stressed, but she never knew the blonde had held such a grudge against her.

“Chloe has been nothing but a fucking _saint_ to your dictatorial ass! Show some fucking respect!”

“Oh, like you’re any better? Your attitude sucks, you’re a Grade-A pain in the ass, and I know you’re hooking up with Jesse!”

“Aubrey, calm down. She’s not. We’re actually both very gay.” Chloe froze, warm blue eyes widening as she turned to the brunette for confirmation. Beca wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’ve _got_ this, Jesse.”

“Yeah, like how you _got us_ during that semi performance?”

The redhead could see Beca tense, her jaw clenching along with her fists as the brunette shook her head. “Man, this is what I get for trying!” Chloe took a step forward as the freshman took a step back. “You know what? I’m done.”

“Beca,” Chloe tried to reach out to the brunette but Aubrey had stopped her.

“Leave it, Chloe. We don’t need her.”

And maybe Chloe would have listened, earlier in the year when it was just her and Aubrey trying to pull together any group of girls they could find. Maybe Chloe would have given in if she hadn’t found a family in her chaotic group of girls. Maybe Chloe would have let Aubrey have her way if she hadn’t met a wonderful, life-changing brunette who made her feel like she was worth more than she normally felt.

Maybe the Chloe a year ago would have listened if she hadn’t met Beca Mitchell.

But she had—and she couldn’t lose that.

Warm blue met her captain’s sharp orbs. “But I do, Bree. I need Beca in this group. I _want_ Beca in this group. She makes us— _me_ —better.”

 

* * *

 

Steely blue eyes blinked groggily under the dimmed lighting, a tired yawn threatening to escape from the freshman’s lips. Beca sat on her bed, laptop resting on her crossed legs as she half-listened to her 13th attempt at the same damn remix she as working on and the soft breathing of a certain redhead sleeping next to her (and Stacie’s snoring from the other side of the room, but she’d managed to block that out since they moved in together, so).

Chloe Beale, the perfect angel that she is, had chased after her after the explosion at semis and spent the rest of the day with her—letting Beca mutter and curse under her breath until she was ready to rant out loud or simply talk about it (Stacie hadn’t been there during the fallout and Beca was grateful that her childhood best friend had been absent. Some serious ass shit would have gone down if Stacie had heard the way Aubrey had exploded—and, though Beca hates the dictator with a burning passion, she knew that giraffe legs might-maybe-kinda have a crush on her and she didn’t want to be the reason to severe their ties). Chloe’s decision to follow her out hadn’t sat well with the Bella captain and the two best friends had a small falling out that lasted exactly five and a half days.

Beca knew because Chloe had crashed at her place for the entire five and a half days and had grown much closer to Stacie in the process (Stacie admitted that it was kind of fucking weird, one afternoon, while Chloe had class and wasn’t lazing in their dorm like she usually did. The redhead was nice and warm and motherly to everyone but she never really got as close to them as she was with Beca (and Stacie even noted how fucking _soft_ the freshman was for her as she tried to tickle her to death while making annoying as fuck whipping sounds in between singing Natasha Bedingfield’s Soulmate like the asshole she truly is)).

Chloe and Aubrey had talked it out after the five-day-silent-treatment and though things still weren’t picture perfect, they were back to talking terms (or arguing-without-kicking-the-other-out terms). Aubrey still had it out for the brunette, though, and so Chloe divided her time between her and Stacie’s dorm room and the redhead’s shared apartment with Aubrey.

That particular night had been spent binge watching some Netflix teens’ show that was actually pretty funny and heartwarming before Chloe had fallen asleep by the seventh episode and Beca moved on to working on a playlist of mixes she’d planned on giving the redhead over the break.

The freshman had initially made it to satisfy the senior over the break while they were supposed to be a little less than two thousand and six hundred miles apart (she didn’t Google it, Chloe had informed her whining dramatically over ice cream a couple weeks ago), but somewhere along the way she’d kind-of-maybe-partially made it a confession playlist of mixes. Sure, it still had a majority of the songs Chloe had suggested to her over the semester and some she’d noticed the redhead nodding along to once or twice—but Beca had also added songs that simply reminded her of the senior.

Songs that brought warm blue eyes shining under the clouded moonlight into the forefront of her thoughts. Songs that spoke of bright red hair and lilting laughter. Songs that filled her with the same kind of warmth and homeliness she felt around her. Songs that spoke of falling slowly, blindly, deeply, ceaselessly in love—and not quite giving a damn.

Beca honestly didn’t know if she was going to give it to the redhead—but sitting there, listening to the smooth crooning of Adele and Chloe’s steady breaths, she felt like she had to tell the redhead _somehow_.

Even if it was through a mix that still didn’t feel quite right to her.

(Not until she knew Chloe’s reaction to it.)

 

* * *

 

The bouncing beats and smooth melodies soothed the redhead as she watched the nurse enter to do another quick checkup. Her phone chirped over the music’s dynamics and the senior slipped off her earphones to check on the message and focus on the checkup.

Warm blue sped over the little black text on her screen, scanning over it again and again before they widened in realization.

They’d done it.

 _They were going back to the finals_!

Chloe couldn’t contain her excitement as she banged lightly on the table, her nurse simply quirking a brow in reply. She had to _tell_ someone (figuratively, she still couldn’t speak for another week) about the good news!

Full pink lips stretched into a grin as she remembered who was waiting for her in the lobby. She made quick work of answering all the nurses simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions before watching him leave and shooting off a text.

Ten minutes later, Beca Mitchell walked into her room with a warm drink in each hand and a paper bag hanging off her pinky.

An amused little smirk quirked the brunette’s lips as she handed her a cup and placed the paper bag on her side table. “What’s with all the exclamation points, Red?”

Chloe took a sip of the drink (Chamomile with a teaspoon of sugar—just the way she liked it) before shooting the freshman a beaming grin. She grabbed her phone and tapped out her reply.

She watched Beca reach into her pocket and pull out her own phone, brow quirked curiously as she unlocked it to read the text. Chloe reveled in the way thin pink lips curled into a slow, sure grin.

Those moments were rare, she knew. Beca didn’t smile much—much less _beam_ (smirking didn’t count), but when she did, Chloe felt like the sand watching the rising sun on a soft Saturday morning. Quietly calm as she let the steady and full, sure rays of Beca’s smile paint her in pink, purple, gold, and blue—paint her to life. She loved Beca’s smile (almost as much as she loved the freshman’s childish pouts and sarcastic smirks).

Cold blue eyes met ocean blue, the redhead’s grin quickly matching the brunette’s in intensity. Beca’s bubbling laughter would’ve rendered Chloe speechless if she weren’t already on vocal rest. “This is _great_ , Chlo! Congrats, dude!”

It took the redhead a moment to process what the brunette had said before Chloe was shaking her head. This wasn’t an individual win. Chloe knew Beca was still blaming herself for their semis mess-up, but the redhead knew better.

Warm blue turned back to her phone screen as she typed up her reply. This wasn’t just a “ _congratulations, dude_!” moment, this was a “we _fucking did it_!” moment. This was a win for Beca as much as it was for her.

“No, Chlo,” the brunette huffed as cold blue eyes red over her text. “It’s fine, dude. I’m not really in the mood to deal with any more Aubrey for the rest of my life.”

Chloe tried for her best glare, cheeks puffing as she typed back a reply. Sometimes, sometimes she just wished Beca weren’t so stubborn (she both loved and hated this part about the freshman).

“Oh I’m so scared, Red,” Beca’s reply dripped with sarcasm, cold blue rolling at the replying text before they rose to meet warm blue challengingly.

Chloe’s glare intensified as her puffed cheeks turned into a disapproving frown. She shot back her reply before realizing she needed to change tactics after the text had sent. Tan thumbs hovered over the keys before the redhead let out a soft sigh and typed up another text.

_Please, Becs. For me?_

Because _damnit_ , Beca Mitchell was just as much a Bella as Chloe was—and she wasn’t going to stop until Beca realized it, too. Beca was too talented for her _not_ to be the perfect Bella.

She was talented and loyal and sincere and determined to the point of being stubborn as hell. She was humble and such a warm presence despite the many “ear monstrosities” she wore. She was smart and observant and used it to help others even if she tried to play it off as a coincidence. She was also awkwardly, adorably kind.

Chloe didn’t know what to name it just yet, but she knew she’d started feeling _something_ towards the brunette when she’d watched the freshman walk away. She remembered the feeling of a fist squeezing her lungs, her heart dropping to her toes—like she was stuck in a horror movie where you knew the bad shit was coming and you were walking closer and closer towards it but you couldn’t make it stop. She just wanted it to stop.

Which was why she’d chased after Beca—because Chloe hated horror movies and she refused to let it stay that way.

(And maybe there might have been something more bubbling to the surface of Chloe’s thoughts but the redhead hadn’t had the time to think about it. Not when brown hair and blue eyes were storming away faster than her heels could take her.)

Chloe didn’t regret any of her actions—even if it caused a bit of a rift between her and her best (second best, now?) friend. Because Chloe knew that there was something more to Beca Mitchell than meets the eye. She didn’t know if it was something for the world to see, for the country, or even if it was just for her—but Chloe wasn’t going to give Beca up for the universe (she didn’t really question why she felt so certain).

Chloe knew Beca cared more about the other Bellas than she let on and she knew Beca was even slightly _proud_ of her little aca-family.

She also knew that they would be, too. If only she had a chance to prove it.

Cold blue met with warm orbs in reluctant acceptance as full pink lips curled into a pout. “Fine.”

Chloe grinned in triumph, opening her arms and wiggling her fingers as she silently asked (called for? Forced? Demanded?) a hug. Beca grudgingly slipped into the redhead’s arms and Chloe thrilled at the chance to hug her favorite brunette.

(And maybe even her favorite person.)

 

* * *

 

They won.

They fucking _won_.

And Beca felt like she was on a rollercoaster that was only flying one way. Up.

“Be _caw_!” the brunette laughed as she let the Treble captain crush her into a hug. “Congrats!”

“Thanks, Jesse,” she grinned, pulling away as she dodged another group of incoming guests. Barden’s entire acapella community (and then some) were gathered at the Treble house as the group graciously hosted the Bella’s championship party. Beca had lost track of where each of the Bellas had disappeared off to after spotting Stacie and Aubrey stumble up the stairs (she was honestly horrified at the sight but was more terrified at the thought of having to hear all the fucking details in the morning), but she didn’t really mind considering she was only looking for one of them.

“I’m surprised you didn’t kiss her on stage,” Jesse chuckled, noticing the way Beca distractedly searched the crowd.

Cold blue eyes turned back to the Treble. “Dude, what the hell? This isn’t a movie, I wasn’t going to put her on the spot like that.”

“You’re soulmates, Beca,” Jesse rolled his eyes affectionately. “I doubt she would have said no.”

“Just because her words are written on me doesn’t mean mine are written on her,” Beca pointed out before her cold blue orbs finally spotted the senior slipping away from the crowd and out the side door.

Jesse caught sight of the redhead, too. “I highly doubt that but I think you should go get your girl either way, Mitchell.”

Beca chuckled, throwing a light punch to the boy’s shoulder before nodding. It was comforting to know she had someone other than Stacie (id she could count the giant’s constant teasing and innuendos as support) in her corner. The DJ slipped into the crowd and elbowed her way through to reach the Treble’s side door, opening it gently and slipping out into the slightly more muted night.

Most of the party was either inside or in the back of the house, leaving a majority of the people lingering by the side path of the Treble’s building to be a bunch of passed out partygoers or lost guests. Beca spotted Chloe in the distance, on her phone, back facing the house as the redhead shrugged at whoever was on the other end of the line. Beca lingered by the door, only daring to take a wary step closer once she was sure the redhead had ended her call.

“Chlo?” Beca’s steps were quiet, cautious, as she watched the redhead tense at her whispered call before she even laid a gentle hand on the senior’s shoulder.

Chloe’s reply was muttered softly, though Beca could hear the roughness in her voice. “Hey, Becs. You did amazing.”

And Beca should really have expected it from the tone in the redhead’s voice, but it still took her by surprise to stand in front of the senior and find the older Bella crying.

“Chlo.” The DJ’s voice was soft, coaxing, as she pulled the redhead in for a hug and let Chloe cry into her shoulder. Her heart broke for the girl who’d give so much of herself and never asked for anything in return. For the girl she’d fallen and chosen to love.

She held her for what felt like hours—maybe days—cold pale arms trying to pull the sun and stars and cosmos back into her universe. Back into the warm tan body shaking in her arms. She held her like she was the most precious diamond in the world. Held her like she needed it just as much as Chloe did.

She didn’t know how long she held the senior—she just knew that when Chloe pulled away, her shirt was damp and the moon had set the redhead in a sort-of heavenly glow. The senior’s cheeks and nose were a glowing red, tear tracks lighting soft trails down her cheeks.

Pale cold hands tentatively cupped the redhead’s cheeks, Beca’s cool thumbs softly padding away the remnants of the redhead’s tears. Beca waited for the redhead to speak first, understanding how sometimes— _sometimes_ you just need time to put your thoughts together (or not talk at all). She watched as full pink lips slowly curled into a soft, fragile smile, the redhead sniffing away the last of her tears as a croaky chuckle left her lips.

Chloe’s first words were whispered, “Thanks.”

“‘S no problem,” she whispered back, cold blue too worried to pull off any semblance of a smile. “Want to talk about it?”

Beca felt the slightest nod shift under her fingers and reluctantly pulled away to let Chloe speak.

Chloe seemed hesitant to start, but the hand that had cradled her cheeks easily moved to hold her own. Pale thumbs rubbed soothing circles over tanned knuckles and Beca watched the senior nod to herself determinedly.

Chloe’s voice was still soft. “It was my dad. I’d texted him about us winning earlier and he called to congratulate me. It was—he said he was proud of me and—” Full pink lips shook before the redhead sucked in a shaky breath. “god this is stupid—but he mentioned that my mom would be, too, and it’s already been three years but it still _hurts_.”

Beca pulled the redhead back in for a hug and Chloe, normally honeyed voice thick and shaky, continued through her tears. “She was just—She’s the reason I started singing, you know? She used to make up songs while we did chores together and encouraged me to join choir in middle school and I just—” Chloe held her tighter as her voice dropped to the softest of whispers. “I miss her.”

Beca knew that the senior’s mom had passed a little after she started in Barden and the redhead had always talked about the woman with a melancholy fondness. The brunette always wondered how Chloe did it—how the senior managed to be such a bright, all-encompassing warmth. Beca realized that Chloe was only able to be such a sunny person because she knew what it was like live in darkness.

And Beca’d be damned if she let the redhead go through her lows alone now that she was there.

She pulled away slowly, gently. Cold pale thumbs wiping away the fresh tears as she planted a tender kiss on tanned forehead. Steely blue met warm orbs as Beca pulled away, smile the most genuine it’s ever been since she could remember.

“Your dad’s right, Red,” she murmured, barely registering the soft breaths ghosting over her lips. “She’d be hella proud of you, but probably not as proud as I am.”

Thankfully, that brought out the eyeroll Beca was expecting and the brunette’s smile curled into a smirk before it quickly fell back into a soft, sincere one. “She sounds like an amazing woman, Chlo.”

“She was.” Full pink lips lifted wistfully. “She used to play this game with me—the singing alphabet—and we’d have to come up with song lyrics while taking turns as we got through the alphabet. She was so smart and funny. She was kind and caring, too.”

Beca’s own smile brightened at the redhead’s reminiscent tone, noting the slight brightness returning to warm ocean orbs. She chuckled fondly, voice dropping with an overwhelming surge of affection, “Just like you.”

Warm blue eyes brightened along with full pink lips, the brunette watching the senior’s smile grow into a grin before it stops—jolts to the point that Chloe _freezes_. And Beca’s worried she’s said something wrong or triggered a bad memory when Chloe suddenly bolts back to life by _kissing_ her.

Chloe Beale is _kissing her_.

Kissing _her_.

Beca melts into soft pink lips as if it were a habit long-formed—easily and smoothly as cold pale hands wind around the senior’s tanned neck. A million thoughts fly through her head but the only one she catches is _finally_. Because what else can Beca come up with when her fucking _soulmate_ is _kissing_ her.

Time blends together until Beca pulls away for air, blue eyes wide but bright as a dorky grin splits her face. “What was that for?”

Chloe seems to hesitate as warm ocean orbs fall to the floor and Beca’s brows furrow in confusion. Was it all the heat of the moment? A new kind of shoulder to cry on schtick? A—

“The words,” Chloe’s voice is clear, certain where the redhead looks absolutely frightened. “You—my words.”

Beca’s brows stay cinched until the familiar black scrawl flew to the forefront of her mind. She repeated the words she’d read on tanned skin all those months ago. “Just like you.”

Chloe let out a breathy laugh, shy smile quirking full pink lips. “Yeah. You’ve seen them?”

Beca nodded, grin growing at the strangely fond memory. “Once. When you barged into my shower.”

“I never saw yours,” Chloe pouted playfully and Beca knew that Chloe was fully aware that they were soulmates. But Beca still hesitated—not because they _weren’t_ but because of how long ago her words were said and how she hadn’t said or done a single thing about them.

Chloe softened at the brunette’s obvious uncertainty. “You don’t have to show it to me, Becs.”

Beca stilled, shaking her head as she slowly pulled out of the redhead’s embrace (she missed the way warm blue eyes widened in hurt and full pink lips curled into a frown).

“It’s not that,” Beca explained as she stepped back to tuck out her blouse. “It’s just—um…” The brunette shifted awkwardly before raising cold blue eyes to meet warm orbs. The redhead’s gaze was soft and encouraging (after she realized Beca wasn’t running away) as she gave a small nod and smile. Taking in a deep breath, Beca lifted the left side of her blouse and turned to show the three sentences she’d carried with her since childhood.

Soft tan fingers gingerly traced each letter, full pink lips curling to a soft smile as Chloe stared at the words, entranced. “It’s still true. You’re amazing, Becs.”

The brunette blushed as she pulled her shirt back down, shrugging awkwardly as the redhead chuckled and pulled her in.

“Thank you.” Full pink lips brushed against hers.

Beca still didn’t quite believe her mark—but she believed in Chloe Beale, and that’s more than enough for her.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Chloe didn’t know what to think of her mark—most days, it overwhelmed her. Filled her with a sense of hope and love and warmth and comfort that only Beca Mitchell could provide. Other times, it calmed her, reminded her of the messy brown hair and mischievous blue eyes she’d be coming home to. And this time, this time it gave her the strength to reassure their six year old son that his soulmate was going to be someone who’d help him grow.

“I didn’t know it then,” the vet hummed. “But I was falling for the woman I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Are we talking about J. Lo again?” a sarcastically familiar voice echoed from the hall and little Mitchell shot out of her lap and bounded out of the room. Chloe followed close behind him, warm blue eyes brightening at the sight of her wife.

“Mama!” Chloe watched their little boy latch on to Beca’s leg, the brunette scooping him into her arms as she dropped a flurry of kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

Beca pulled away, grinning (and damnit if Chloe’s heart didn’t melt _every fucking time_ ). “Hey there, little dude. Were you good for Mommy today?”

“The goodest!” he chirped and Beca dropped another hundred kisses before she noticed her wife standing by the entrance. Chloe doesn’t know how, but Beca’s grin simply brightened (outshining the damn sun like a supernova) at the sight of her and moved in quickly to pull her into a sweet kiss.

“I’m home,” Beca chuckled as she pulled away just slightly, letting their little angel (monster, if you ask the other mother) wriggle out of her grip and back towards his spot in the living room.

Chloe smiled softly in reply, “Welcome home.”

Chloe didn’t know what to think of her mark—because a billion words couldn’t describe the love Beca’s given her since the day they met.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was from somewhere, probs the same link I found every other soulmate au I use idek anymore. **Prompt:** Soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate tells you when you realize you love them is tattooed on your skin.
> 
> HEY PITCHESSSSS!!! What the fuck is up dudes?
> 
> So I was planning on breaking my writing drought by writing this cute little one-shot that I'd started a million years ago when I was in my soulmate phase and gUESS THE FUCK WHAT??? IT TURNED INTO THIS MASSIVE MONSTER AND I DON'T. EVEN. KNOW. HOW???
> 
> Anyways! Hopefully this monster will give me enough push to finish chapter 6 and maybe even start that textual analysis I need to do for my thesis but whatevs! Fuck this shit I'm writing fanfiction for a living (Gregory Maguire seems to be doing pretty well so why the fuck not, right?)
> 
> As always tell me what you think, lovelies! (esp if it's about that in _tense_ tense change in the latter half of the fic ;D AhahahahaHAHAHA I need a life)


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